


your favorite cheshire grin

by blackwood (transjon)



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Asexual Character, Established Relationship, M/M, Oral Sex, Pet Play, Strap-Ons, Subspace, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Sex, ace subtype: sex favorable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:15:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28549203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transjon/pseuds/blackwood
Summary: There’s a moment where all they do is look at each other. No kissing when Jon’s wearing his ears. No talking when Jon’s wearing his collar. Martin’s eyes on him are as close to a kiss as they get. It feels just as nice. They bask in it for just a few moments, Martin’s fingers fluttering over the gentle swell of Jon’s stomach, and Jon thinksyou. You. Both of you. Just you.
Relationships: Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Tim Stoker
Comments: 14
Kudos: 123
Collections: t4tma week 2021





	your favorite cheshire grin

**Author's Note:**

> title is from mama's gun by glass animals!
> 
> for the t4tma prompts affection/toys!
> 
> oops! all trans! words used in this fic are as follows:  
> \- cock for tim & martin, plus "front" in reference to, yknow, the hole youd imagine that might mean  
> \- clit & cunt for jon  
> \- chest / nipples
> 
> im eternally fascinated by the variety of ways i can make jon watch other people have sex with analytical fascination and sympathy arousal. also eternally fascinated by the variety of ways i can make jon be kitty,

“Oh,” says Tim, “ _wow_.”

Martin, still in his boxers and binder, rolls over on the bed to look. Jon, unhappy with losing Martin’s fingers in his hair, makes a chirping sound. 

Martin doesn’t pay any attention to that noise, though. Instead he looks at Tim, eyes going down from his jaw to his chest and then down to where the toy sticks out from between his legs. Jon looks as well. 

He looks good. Jon knows that much. The toy looks natural. The thin strip of silicone that connects the external part of the toy to the egg-shaped part that goes inside is barely visible from this angle, and although the shade match isn’t perfect, it’s pretty good. It’s a good size on him, too. If he doesn’t look too closely it almost looks real. 

“Should you do a harness, too?” Martin asks. His hand curls around Tim’s hip, and Tim leans into the touch lightly. “Just in case it comes loose.”

Tim gives the toy a few experimental strokes and hisses when the motion presses the base of the toy against his cock. “Maybe,” he says. “Fuck, that’s _good_.”

Martin gets on his knees and shuffles towards Tim. Jon, feeling a little wounded and lonely, rolls after him.

“It looks really good, Tim,” says Martin. “ _You_ look really good.” He tilts his chin up, expecting a kiss, and Tim rewards him with one. 

They kiss for a while. Jon slots himself against Martin’s back horizontally. Eventually the sounds turn a little hungry, and then there’s the sound of them detaching, and then Tim stands up properly again. Jon lifts his head up a little bit to see better at the same time as Tim moans. When Jon looks, Martin’s got one hand curled over Tim’s hip, pulling him closer. The toy is in Martin’s mouth. 

Jon meows quietly, and flops on his back. Martin moves closer to Tim to get the shaft deeper in his mouth, and Tim responds by snapping his hips forward. Martin chokes briefly, swallows heavily a few times, and then seemingly adjusts. The next thrust of Tim’s hips is smooth, easy, the length of the toy sliding in with no resistance. Jon absently watches as Martin’s throat moves around the shape of the cock. 

“D’you like me fucking your mouth, love?” asks Tim. Martin moans around the silicone cock, and Tim makes a noise between a sigh and a moan. “Should I fuck you properly?”

Martin makes a gargled sound. Tim’s hips don’t stop moving, which makes it hard for Martin to speak, Jon assumes. Tim hooks his index finger in the corner of Martin’s mouth. Some saliva drips down his mouth and then down his chin. Jon wrinkles his nose and starts kneading his paw-hands against Martin’s side. 

“D’you want that?” he prompts. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

Martin pulls away, except a string of saliva keeps him connected to the tip of the toy, which makes Jon _mrrp_ in fascination. “Please,” Martin rasps. “Please fuck me.”

Tim’s hand comes to stroke over the shape of Martin’s jaw. Two fingers dig into the soft flesh. Martin whimpers. “Good boy,” Tim says. “Sit up, baby.”

Martin does. Tim climbs onto the bed, too, one hand holding the toy in so it doesn’t fall out, and when he’s situated on the bed he opens his arms for Martin. 

“Where do you want it?” asks Tim. His hands settle on Martin’s hips. 

Martin, hovering over Tim’s lap, hums thoughtfully. “Front,” he says, and then he leans down to kiss Tim. Jon watches Martin’s hand go between their bodies. He can’t see very well, but he knows Martin’s grabbed the shaft of the toy, because when he sinks down further he hisses as the head splits him open, which fades into a moan when Tim bottoms out.

Tim breaks the kiss. “Alright?” 

Martin nods. Jon watches his eyes flutter shut dramatically, indulgently. “Alright.”

Tim presses a kiss to Martin’s nose, and then his cheek, and then the other cheek. “Is this good? Or do you want to do a different position?”

“No,” says Martin. “It’s good. Want me to ride you?”

“Can you?”

Martin smiles. “I can _try_.”

“You can just sort of,” Tim waves his hand a little bit, “ _gyrate_ your hips if that’s easier, too.”

It makes Martin laugh, just a little bit. “Got it,” he says. “Jon?” 

“Mm?”

Martin smiles at him. “Where do you want to be?”

Jon hates having to speak when he’s like this. He’s a kitty for a _reason._ He swats at Martin’s arm lightly with a paw-socked hand, and then curls into a little ball next to them. His hands knead into the soft comforter. He tries to purr, but the noise gets lost in his throat. Not enough practice. They haven’t been doing this enough lately. 

“Comfortable?” Tim asks. He reaches towards him with one hand and Jon leans into the touch. Tim’s fingers scratch against his scalp for a moment before retreating. “Good boy.” 

Jon settles where he’s curled up. He’s comfortable and warm. Martin does try to ride Tim, and Jon listens to the slick sounds of the toy sliding in and out of him with curious fascination. Underneath him is Tim, who keeps telling Martin how gorgeous he is, how handsome. Jon watches his eyes squeeze shut as the motion of Martin’s hips grinds the textured base of the toy against his cock, keeping him close but not quite managing to get him off. 

“On your back,” Tim says finally. “Let me fuck you properly?”

“Yes,” says Martin, breathless, “yes, please –”

Jon watches the fluid motions of Tim’s limbs. The trembling of Martin’s thighs. The way Tim bends Martin’s legs so far he’s almost close to wincing himself. The way the tip of the toy sinks in. The moan it wrings out of Martin. 

Tim’s hips are strong and precise and the muscles of his thighs flex and strain as he picks up a pace hard enough to knock the breath out of Martin, his moans turning into whimpers and whines. The toy doesn’t slide out, like Martin’d been worried it would. From where Jon’s sitting it looks like it’s just his cock. Like it’s always been there. 

“Can I touch myself?” Martin asks. He’s all sweet and lovely. His lips are slick, and so are his thighs. Jon wants to touch, suddenly. Trace the tips of his fingers through the slick mess; the tacky texture of it drying onto the hair of his thighs; the patch of smooth skin where the hair doesn’t grow.

“Fuck,” says Tim, “yes, fuck, Martin.”

Martin needs no further encouragement, hand sliding between their bodies to rub at his cock, fast and slick and shameless. He squirms slightly, and Tim’s brow furrows as he tries to angle his hips for a better spot to hit, and he seems to succeed, because Martin jolts, which makes Tim smile, which makes Jon smile as well. 

There’s a series of sweet, punched out noises that leave Martin’s mouth, then, and Jon captures all of them eagerly to store for later. “Come on,” says Tim. “Fuck, Martin.”

And Martin does. He comes quietly, like he often does. Jon can tell by the clench of his teeth. The shiver that goes across the skin of his stomach. The shudder of his hips. “Fuck,” he says, which turns into a whine. 

Tim fucks him for a few more minutes, until he gets impatient, until it no longer feels good for Martin, and then he pulls out. His hand wraps itself around the toy, and he gives it an experimental jerk, and then groans. On the next stroke he presses it back towards himself as he does, which rips a surprised moan out of him. 

“Can you come like that?” Martin asks him. “Just from that?”

Tim grunts. “Let’s find out.”

Jon watches Martin’s hands twitch, like he wants to reach out and touch, but Tim doesn’t ask for his hands and Martin doesn’t offer. Instead Jon and Martin both watch, eyes half-lidded, Martin’s slick lips parted, as Tim strokes the cock in his hold, loose and slow at first, and then tight and fast, the base of the toy pressing against his cock with each stroke. The way he shudders. The way his thighs flex and tremble. He moves his other hand underneath himself, to cup over where the end of the toy disappears inside of him, the flesh shining slick-pink in the light, and grinds forward into the hand on his cock. 

“Good?” Martin asks softly. He moves a little closer to put his mouth on Tim’s neck. Tim moves his head to the side to make more room for him. Jon thinks Martin gives his neck a few little nibbling bites, but he can’t be sure from this angle.

“ _So_ good,” Tim grunts out. “Kiss me?”

Martin does. There’s the slick sound of their mouths, and the louder, slicker sound of the toy as it moves against and inside of Tim. Martin’s hand comes to rest on the small of Tim’s back, pulling him closer, and Tim goes, eager and pliable. Jon wants to bite his calf. He rubs his thighs together absently. The fabric of his underwear has started to stick to his skin. He frowns. 

Next to him Tim makes a little series of whiny moans, and then his body comes to a stammering stop, jerks, and then collapses heavily against Martin. “Good boy,” Martin coos. 

“Hey,” says Tim weakly. “That’s my line.”

Martin grins. “It’s true, though.”

Jon headbutts Martin’s hip and meows plaintively. Martin turns his head to look at him, and then smiles. “Hi,” he says. Jon headbutts him again. Martin’s fingers come to rest on his head, right behind the clip-on ears. “What do you want?”

Jon makes a pleased little _mrp_ sound and flops on his back, legs spread. Tim barks out a laugh from behind Martin. Martin ignores him, hand settling on Jon’s belly right above the waistband of his underwear. 

There’s a moment where all they do is look at each other. No kissing when Jon’s wearing his ears. No talking when Jon’s wearing his collar. Martin’s eyes on him are as close to a kiss as they get. It feels just as nice. They bask in it for just a few moments, Martin’s fingers fluttering over the gentle swell of Jon’s stomach, and Jon thinks _you. You. Both of you. Just you._

The moment can’t last forever, of course. Jon’s mewls and rubs his thighs together, and Martin gets the hint. Two fingers under the waistband of his underwear. Jon’s breath stutters in his chest as Martin peels the wet fabric away from his slick skin. 

“Oh,” Martin says, all pleased surprise. One finger swipes a line over the wet glisten of his slit, dips between his folds to poke at the give of his cunt. “What a good kitty.”

Jon makes a choked off purring noise that ends up stopping somewhere between his throat and his sternum when Martin leans in and sucks his clit into his mouth. Tim comes to sit next to him, hand on Jon’s hair, fingers moving back and forth gently to pet him. “How’s our good kitty,” he asks. 

“Meow,” says Jon. Martin’s finger slides into him to the third knuckle, and Jon’s hips buck into the intrusion eagerly. He’s not really feeling desperate. Just nice. Loved and warm and safe and nice. 

They don't talk. Tim guides Jon’s head into his lap. He’s put on a pair of underwear, and Jon can smell the remnants of his arousal through the fabric, but it’s not overpowering or off-putting. Between his legs Martin’s tongue pokes in between two of his fingers and then licks up into him, and Jon mewls, which makes Tim shush him, which in turn makes Martin smile against him. 

Jon meows again, and wiggles his hips against the pressure of Martin’s mouth. He’s getting a little impatient. Martin, luckily enough, gets the hint, lips closing around Jon’s clit again, tongue peeking out to flick it gently. Tim’s hands travel down Jon’s head to his cheeks, down his jaw, over his neck, and finally settle on his chest. Jon makes an effort to purr as well as he can, which is the only encouragement Tim needs to squeeze the soft flesh. Jon sighs. One thumb finds his nipple and starts toying with it. 

“Good boy,” mumbles Tim. “Gonna come for us?”

“Mm,” says Jon, which isn’t a cat noise, although it’s close enough that he doesn’t try to rethink it before it leaves his mouth. He’s feeling floaty and catlike and sweet and pliable. “Mew,” he tries again. Martin’s tongue laves over the entire length of his slit, the tip of it pushing into him only to pull out to flick at the jutting length of his clit instead. 

“Don’t tease him,” Tim scolds Martin. “He’s been so patient.”

Martin hums. His mouth closes around Jon’s clit once again, and this time he doesn’t stop. The two fingers inside of Jon curl up gently, and go _tap, tap, tap_. An invisible thread inside of him running along his spine goes taut and trembling, and Tim pinches a nipple between two fingers, and the shock of it is all he needs. Martin makes a pleased noise at the clench of his cunt around his fingers, the twitch and pulse of his clit in his mouth. He knows him well enough to know when to pull away, and Jon, heavy and soft and needy whines low in his throat until both he and Tim settle down on the bed next to him. There’s kisses, then, and soft touches, which Jon leans into, and Martin and Tim kissing, and then both of them kissing him again. 

“Good,” he says. His voice comes out raspy from the lack of use. “Thank you.”

Tim kisses him soundly. When he pulls away his eyes are half lidded. “I could’ve fucked you too, y’know.”

Jon laughs quietly. “Maybe next time.”

Martin nestles into his shoulder. Warm and soft and big and safe. On his other side Tim is also warm and soft and big and safe. The toy is somewhere on the bedroom floor, he’s sure. In his hair the clips of the ears are starting to press into his scalp. 

“Maybe,” agrees Tim. He puts his head on Jon’s shoulder. “Or maybe you can fuck me.”

Martin hums into Jon’s neck, like he’s intrigued by the concept. “Maybe,” says Jon. It’s a concept he’s not categorically opposed to. “Another time.”

Tim kisses his forehead. “Another time.”

Jon, pleased and happy and safe, sinks into the pillows and drifts.


End file.
